Title: Eradication

Summary: Inception follow-up. Upon Browning's discovery of the Inception job, Cobb once again faces the possibility of never seeing his children again unless he and his team are able to eradicate the idea they originally planted in Fischer's mind. Warning: Rating will probably change a few chapters on (nothing too serious, though).

Author's note: Hey everybody! So, basically, I've been reading a lot of fan girl fluff (which is great, don't get me wrong) but it's given me the urge to write something hopefully a bit more similar to the movie. This is my first ever fan fic so please read, it'll help me so much since this is all so new and I'm so timid with this all right now. But enough talk, on with the story!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own any part of Inception except for the DVD in my basement.

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Prologue

Peter Browning was aware that something was not quite right with his godson the moment he stepped off the plane in Los Angeles. Another person may have dismissed it as grief for his late father, as jet-lag, even as shock of having to fly on a public airline. But although Browning hadn't spent the past thirty-two years spending quality time with Robert Fischer, he had none the less spent the past thirty-two years watching his godson turn slowly into man, so he was blind if he didn't notice something strange plaguing Robert now. Something... different.

Fischer dismissed all of Browning's questions for several days, a strange almost mistrust in his eyes when he saw his godfather. Finally, though, he opened up to Browning the day after his father's funeral. It was a Friday and the city was busy as its entire population it seemed went out to party for the night. Browning and Fischer sat at the back of a stretch-limo, heading home after a day of very long meetings. The lawyers were still sorting out all of Maurice's affairs, and it was a long and exhausting process. Browning was drifting off now, stretched across several seats in the back of the limbo. The silence stretched out between the two men with neither having anything to say after spending the past few days together.

"Dad wanted me to be my own man, Uncle Peter," Fischer suddenly broke the silence un-expectantly.

Browning opened his eyes wearily. "What?"

"I think Dad wanted me to make something for myself by myself, not just follow in his footsteps," Fischer clarified.

Browning frowned, sitting up and paying more attention. "What brought this on, Robert?" he asked in a gruff voice, deep with fatigue.

"I don't know. Something just got me thinking on the flight on Tuesday. I know, this goes against all of what you stand for and all of what you want, Uncle Peter, but I'm thinking about splitting up Fischer-Morrow into the individual, component businesses again."

"Surely you can't be serious, Robert..."

"I want to prove myself, not just follow in Dad's footsteps. I want to be my own person, build something for myself. I've been thinking about this for a while, Uncle Peter, and it's what I've decided I want to do. Transfer ownership of the company back to the boards off all of the individual companies, end Fischer-Morrow, and start something for myself. Something of my own."

This took a while to sink in with Browning, but as expected when it did sink in, Browning protested. He put up a long fight against Fischer, listing all the reasons why what he was doing was stupid, advising him again and again against this decision, but in the end Fischer ended up telling him point-blank that he owned the Fischer-Morrow conglomerate and that Browning needed to step down. Browning realized then just how determined Robert was to be his own man, not just his father's heir. What stuck out the most in Browning's mind, however, was how suddenly this had come on for Fischer was. Before he had escorted his father's body over from Sydney, he had never so much as mentioned any desire to build anything for himself, never even considered splitting up the company or giving up his inheritance.

Another few days later when Browning questioned Fischer about his sudden change of mind on the flight over, his sense of suspicion further raised as Fischer described his flight. He had fallen asleep for most of the flight he said, and had woken up with this new idea which he couldn't rid.

"I must have been exhausted from planning about what to do with Dad," Fischer smiled at Browning. "That, or the strain of flying on a public plane. Anyway, I just slept through the whole flight and I guess that this idea must always have been in the back of my mind, and sleeping on it finally brought it out in the open."

Browning said nothing, mulling everything over. He remembered waiting for Robert outside the airport and spotting Mr. Saito, the owner of their rival energy company leaving the airport around the same time as Robert. This seemed strange to him, especially since he knew that Saito always flew private. He had dismissed it at the time, telling himself he must be mistaking Saito for someone else as he didn't know Saito's face all that well and he hadn't gotten a very good look at the man. But now, looking back on that, Browning decided that that may have been too great of a coincidence. He decided he needed to make some calls. He needed to know just exactly what Mr. Saito (if it had indeed been him) had been doing on that plane with Robert, and perhaps that could lead him to finding a way to change Robert's mind about the future of the company.

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Chapter One

Cobb was tired. He had been awoken repeatedly the previous few nights by his nearly four-year-old son, James, climbing into his bed over and over again after being woken by nightmares. The first few nights he had been home he had allowed James to crawl into his bed and sleep with him because he had been so happy to see his son again. Now, though, it was becoming a problem to get James to sleep on his own again.

Philippa wasn't really helping matters. She was seven, and raised hell every morning if she found out that her brother had been permitted to sleep with their father and she had not. The two children were at a stage where they were beginning to fight, and attempting to resolve their childish arguments was beginning to take its effects on Cobb, something Stephen Miles didn't fail to notice. He had rightly suspected his son-in-law would be fatigued when he arrived home and was thrust right into the middle of parenthood after being away for so long, especially without Mal to help him now. Eventually, he knew, Cobb was planning to return to work for the government, now that his charges had been lifted. Until then, though, he was taking several years off and Miles could tell Cobb was beginning to wonder which was the more tiresome of the two jobs.

Miles' original plan had been to stay with Cobb until he was settled in again, but he had begun to notice that the strain of hosting him was becoming as much of a strain on his son-in-law as the kids themselves were. So, after two or three days had passed, Miles decided to stay with his ex-wife, Marie, in her house directly next door to Cobb's. She had been looking after the kids after Mal had died, since Cobb had been on the run and he himself had been teaching in Paris. She wasn't too happy about the arrangement; he knew she blamed him just as much as Cobb for their daughter's suicide. She had always hated him for introducing their little girl and her husband to the career of dream-sharing. But now Cobb was finally home and beginning to patch together the damage he had done, she seemed less unwelcoming to him and Cobb.

Noticing the bags under Cobb's eyes when Marie and Miles had him and the kids over for dinner, Miles spoke up.

"Why don't you take the day off tomorrow?" he asked as they all sat around the table. "We can take the kids to the beach or go see a movie."

"And ice cream," James added, picking at his vegetables with his nose scrunched up.

Cobb ran a hand over his eyes. "Thanks, Stephen, but I'm fine."

"We haven't had a day alone with James and Philippa since you came home," Miles pressed. "We've been missing them. Don't worry; we'll be fine."

"I want to go, Dad," Philippa said. Her voice was mature, too old for such a young face, as were her eyes. Cobb knew his daughter had gone through things this past year no child that young should have had to, and it seemed to him to have prematurely aged his daughter. Maybe spending more time with her grandparents and doing more things kids were supposed to do would be good for her.

And so, the next day found Cobb home alone with no idea what to do with himself. Miles and Marie had picked up the kids early that morning and they were down along the shoreline now. He could see them a few hundred yards away along the base of the cliff that their houses had been built on. He settled down in a kitchen chair by the patio door to watch them play. Philippa was swimming in the water, a life-jacket causing her to stay buoyant, dragging her back and not letting her dive below the waves. Miles was waist-deep in the water near-by, keeping a close eye on her, his white hair shining with wet. James was crouching in the wet sand along the shore building a sand castle with Marie. They had a small child's bucket that they were using to carry water back and forth from the ocean to the castle. Cobb guessed they were constructing a moat. He felt his chest constrict momentarily as a similar memory flashed through his mind, one of him and Mal constructing a sand castle with James and Philippa on that very same beach. It had been just under a year ago, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

He looked away from the beach as he tried to push the memory away again when he heard a car pull up onto his driveway outside. His guard immediately raised, he hastily set his coffee by the sink and hurried down the long, narrow hallway. He pushed his eye against the eye-hole just as someone knocked and felt his heart drop.

A well-dressed man was standing outside his door. His dark blonde hair was carefully combed back out his face and his dark tailored suite was clearly a designer brand. In his hand he held a black, official-looking brief case. Behind him, a dark Mercedes was parked in the driveway.

Cobb hesitated for a split-second, then pulled open the top drawer of the small cabinet beside the door and grabbed a semi-automatic handgun from the back of the drawer. He then hastily reached into the bottom drawer of the same dresser and groped at the back for his box of ammunition. He swiftly loaded the gun and tucked it into the waistband at the back of his pants, tucking in his shirt over-top to conceal the handgun.

He paused for a beat to compose himself and remind himself that nobody had any business with him anymore, before putting on his most welcoming, un-suspecting smile as he opened the door.

"Hello," he greeted the man pleasantly. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you're Mr. Cobb I take it?" the man replied. He had a brisk, hurried tone as he looked Cobb up and down.

"Yes. What do you want?" Cobb matched his tone to the man's.

"May I come in? I have some issues about business that I need to take up with you. Clarke, by the way," he added, offering his hand to Cobb, who didn't shake it. The man lowered his hand after a pause. "Yes, well. These matters had best be discussed indoors, if you wouldn't mind."

"Fine, come in," Cobb finally replied curtly. He locked the door shut as the man walked in, and guided him into the living room where the beach wasn't within eye-sight. The man didn't sit down, but instead strode into the room then turned to face Cobb.

"As I said, my name is Henry Clarke and I'm here representing the Fischer-Morrow energy conglomerate," the man said.

Immediately, all of Cobb's warning signals lit up. "What do you want?" he asked harshly.

"To discuss a job you recently completed for a Mr. Saito."

"What do you want?" Cobb repeated, impatient now.

"We want you to erase the idea you planted in Robert Fischer's mind," the man said. "We need you to perform eradication, and we need you complete it before his order to split up the company into the component businesses comes through. We're willing to pay handsomely -"

"No," Cobb cut him off. "I've retired from that side of extraction. I don't want money."

"You are aware that we can report the illegality of the job your performed, and you will once again be on the run, never to see your children again?" the man said testily.

"Not if Mr. Saito were to hear about it," Cobb replied. "Now get out of my house. We're through talking."

"You're sure you're not interested in our offer?"

"Quite."

Clarke told Cobb the amount they were offering, but he was still unfazed. He moved to grab Clarke's arm to escort him out of his house, but Clarke held up a finger to stop Cobb.

"As you can imagine, we're quite determined Mr. Cobb," he said as Cobb grasped his elbow.

"Yes, that's why I want you to leave. Now."

"We're not here to give you an offer," Clarke continued calmly as Cobb began escorting him out of the living room. "We're here to tell you that you will be doing this job for us."

They had reached the narrow hallway once more, and Cobb paused, eyes narrowing. "Or what?"

Clarke shook off Cobb's grasp and walked down the hallway in the opposite direction of the front door. He came into the kitchen and walked over to the patio door. Cobb followed him into the room, where they both looked out the glass double doors at Cobb's family along the base of the cliff. James and Marie had finished the sand castle and were in the midst of showing it off to Miles and Philippa who both had towels wrapped around their shoulders.

"Look there," Clarke said, and Cobb felt a sudden wave of dread wash through him. He masked it though, and merely leaned forward so as to see what Clarke was pointing at.

At first Cobb couldn't spot what it was he was supposed to be seeing, but as he squinted he was able to make out a dark shadow amongst a thicket of trees along the top of the cliff. And he could also make out the narrow barrel of a gun, sun reflecting gently off it.

"No," Cobb snarled.

"And there," Clarke said, and pointed in the opposite direction where another man was hidden. Both men were expertly concealed so as someone could only spot them if they knew exactly where and what to look for. Both men had guns carefully trained on Cobb's children, a few hundred yards away.

"And there," Clarke said, pointing out the last concealed sniper.

"Don't you dare, you -" Cobb's fury choked him and cut off his voice. He wanted to hit the man standing next to harm, but instead his hand was instinctively for the gun concealed in his belt.

"Ah, ah," Clarke said as he saw Cobb going for his gun. He held up a small black cell phone in one hand. "You do that, all I have to do is press this one little button and you won't ever see your children again. Those shooters are all connected to this phone, and they're all just waiting for me to give them the get-go. Unless, of course you decide you do just so happen want to complete this one job for us."

"You've been watching us? Following my children?" Cobb muttered in disbelief. How could he have missed them?

"Yes. But not for much longer if you comply with us."

Cobb strode away from the window in an attempt to vent his fury. He ran both hands through his hair, gripping the strands tight in both hands, pulling them so they hurt. "Why me?" he finally managed.

"Only your team can tell us how far you buried that idea in Robert Fischer's mind," Clarke replied. "Only your team knows what you did. You're the only ones who can undo the damage, because you're the only ones who know exactly what damage you did."

"If I were to do this..."

"We would leave you alone, I promise you," Clarke replied. "You'd never hear from us again. Neither you, nor your parents-in-law, nor your children will ever be watched or followed by us again. That I guarantee you."

"What about the rest of my team?" Cobb thought of Arthur, of Ariadne, of Eames, Yusuf, and Satio. Undoubtedly Saito would not be a part of this job, but he might need Arthur, Ariadne, Eames or Yusuf, depending on how the job unfurled.

"You may lure them however you want. We can pay them," Clarke offered. "You don't need all of them if you don't wish it. All that we need is for you to make sure that that idea is eradicated. And be warned, Cobb, if you fail we won't be very forgiving to your children." Clarke moved a finger and pressed a different button on the cell phone.

A shot rang out from one of the snipers, and Cobb yelled out for his children instinctively. A splash ripped the water feet from where Philippa was swimming. Cobb heard her scream out in fright and surprise as she swam frantically away from where the bullet had hit the water. He watched in silence as Miles sprinted through the water to check on his grand-daughter. Neither he nor Marie had actually seen the bullet or heard the shot it seemed, they'd merely seen the splash and hurried Philippa's scream.

"Do you get the message, Mr. Cobb?" Clarke asked, turning to Cobb.

Cobb nodded wordlessly, his eyes still on his children.

"Good, then we have an understanding. I'll accompany you immediately to Peter Browning's offices in Los Angeles where you'll meet with him to be further briefed on your assignment. Pack lightly and say your goodbyes now. I'll be waiting here, and remember, Cobb. Try to do anything, make one wrong word..." he finished his sentence by holding up the cell threateningly. "I would advise you to think thoroughly before you try anything."

Cobb nodded again. He had a suitcase already packed in his bedroom for emergency situations and he took that now, stopping to throw some clothing in it as well. Hauling it into the hallway, he left it by the door and went back to the kitchen. He didn't say anything to Clarke as he slipped through the patio doors and began to walk down the shore to say goodbye to his children yet again.

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So that's the end of chapter one, I really hope you guys liked it! Next chapter we'll meet Arthur, Eames, and possibly Yusuf again. I've got most of this story basically planned out so I hopefully know where it's going to go. As I said before, this is my first fan fic so I'm still pretty shy about everything so PLEASE review and let me know what you guys think! It will really mean the world to me since I have no idea really what ANYONE thinks of any of my work. Thanks so much, you guys are awesome!

~kat